


The Questing Princess

by JustAnotherGhostwriter



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 503 Day | Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell Day, 503 Week 2020, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Automail, F/M, Fairy Tale retelling Edwin Style, Gen, Petronella by Jay Williams, Quests and fluff and magic oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherGhostwriter/pseuds/JustAnotherGhostwriter
Summary: When the magic of the Kingdom of Resembool starts to fade, leaving the kingdom as easy prey to King Bradley of Amestris, the princess-heir, Winry the First, sets out to find a prince who can come back to Resembool with her to fight Bradley and secure the throne. The best prince for the job, she's been told, is being held captive by a sorcerer. Winry supposes she'll just have to rescue him, then. How hard can it be?
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric & Team Mustang, Edward Elric & Ling Yao, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	1. Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to do a Petronella retelling for Edwin since June last year. This fairy tale is one of my favourite modern ones ever, and there are just far too many amazingly hilarious points of the story that fit too well within the FMA verse. So here it is! A little more rushed than I would have liked, but I hope the magic of it all comes through. 
> 
> If you've never heard of this great fairy tale before, there's a reading of it [here on YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvqf7EV_0Lo). Listening to it will give you some spoilers for the rest of this fic, of course, but they're not any that you couldn't have guessed already. 
> 
> I held back on releasing day one until day three for two reasons: firstly, day one had zero Edwin content, and it felt a little cheap releasing no Edwin for Edwin week. Secondly, I fell superbly behind schedule (which is also why the oneshot planned for day two failed to materialise) and so I only finished part one in the very early hours of this morning, anyway. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this, and may you enjoy these two dorks finding each other in a new universe.

The Kingdom of Resembool was one governed by a rhythm of magic deeper than time, more expansive than language and woven into the ebb and flow of the earth much like a human’s blood responds to their heartbeat. This magic that held all life together across most of the known world also ensured that the current king and queen of Resembool always had three sons, whom were always named Dominic, Yuriy and Winfred, in order of birth. The mantle of prince-heir changed each generation, passed from eldest to middle to youngest and then back again to aid The Questing, a ritual as important to culture and genetics as it was to the rhythm of magic. In the year of the prince-heir’s sixteenth birthday, exactly three months before that years’ Promised Day, all three princes were sent into the world to seek the Quest that would lead them to their fortunes. Two went off into the lands beyond, and the prince-heir always brought back a princess, who was crowned beside him on the Promised Day, when the lunar eclipse rendered the world’s magic at its peak and most accessible.

Things worked in perfect rotation for many years before reports of the magic dwindling on the edges of the known world began to reach the kingdoms. Not long after the whispers that the Kingdom of Rush Valley had been all but depleted of magic entirely reached Resembool did a devastating truth sweep across the world: the Kingdom of Xerxes had fallen overnight, completely obliterated with no explanation. The next shock rippled out across the world not two years later: the king of Amestris, Resembool’s closest neighbouring kingdom, took his kingdom to war with the Kingdom of Ishval for reasons that, to King Yuriy the Twelfth and his Queen Sarah, seemed too small and confusing to justify the genocide that followed. Being a small kingdom reliant on agriculture, with almost no military to speak of, all the king and queen of Resembool could do was keep their heads low and aid as many refugees as possible in secret.

During that concerning time, Queen Sarah bore her first and second sons, Dominic the Thirteenth and Yuriy the Thirteenth, rejoicing in the happy and healthy boys. But when her third child, the intended prince-heir of the generation, was delivered, the astonished doctor stammered that it was a _girl_. Panic momentarily overtook the king, the queen, the doctor and all the servants present. A breach in the rhythm showed just how corrupted the magic had become, and the thin shred of hope that they’d managed to cling to despite the war raging from their two neighbouring countries and all the other talks of doom from further nations. The king despaired for his children, the queen for her people, and the servants and doctor for the kingdom as a whole.

“That’s quite enough of that. You’re all wailing louder than the baby!” the Queen Mother, Pinako, finally snapped. Grabbing her son by his robes, she shook some sense back into his shocked head. “There’s nothing we can do about the past, Yuriy. But you _can_ choose how to face the future. Now, choose: how will you view this child? As a sign of a curse, or as a blessing?”

The king and queen, of course, chose to love their daughter entirely and irrevocably, and, under their strength and example, the kingdom quickly learned to love Princess Winry, as they named her, just as much. But love could not cover the fact that nobody knew what to do with a princess who wasn’t yet grown up and ready to become Resembool’s queen, as that was all the experience they’d had with female royalty up to that point. So Pinako, who had once been the fourth princess of Rush Valley before Dominic the Eleventh had come Questing to her door and won her heart, if not her family’s full approval, took the young girl under her wing, teaching her everything she needed to know to rule the country well, and everything she needed to know about teaching the king she would one day rule beside about a kingdom he had not grown up in.

“Why do _I_ have to teach it to him?” Winry groused, eight and not too happy about the idea of having to marry somebody one day. Boys were, after all, gross. Even her brothers, largely loveable, did not understand life the way she did.

“Who else do you think will teach him, girl?” Pinako said, severely. “Think for a moment! Being queen means thinking of others in positions not like yours so you can help them best. The boy who comes to marry you is going to be from a place where they do things completely differently. He won’t know our history. He won’t know which farms need help, which are owned by cruel men. He won’t know our magic. And, if he comes here late, he might be crowned king of the place the very day he arrives. How would you like it if that happened to you? It was what was done to me and to your mother. And you are given the opportunity to _change_ that, Winry the First.”

“What if he won’t _listen_ , Granny?” Winry insisted.

Pinako sucked on her pipe long and hard – a habit she had taken up as soon as she had stepped down from ruling. “Cross that bridge when you come to it, child. For now, you can either live in fear or in hope. Hope that he will love you, and not just love power. Hope that he will love this land. Hope that he will listen to you.”

“And hope he’ll let me continue making Automail,” Winry interjected, hiking a metal prosthetic arm over her shoulder as she spoke.

Her grandmother smiled, missed the husband who had changed laws to allow her to still practise the Rush Valley craft that Resembool had been so wary of when she’d first arrived there as their new queen, and continued sowing into her granddaughter’s life. All around her, members of the nation continued to hope with her, quietly placing increasing trust that the girl turning into a young woman with eyes like a piece of the sky, hair like corn, a voice like the songbird’s and a heart like an open, warm hearth would be the one to restore the magical balance to their land. Winry, sheltered from many of the horrors around her for much of her childhood, continued to pursue her first love of mechanics, and thought little of that unspoken responsibility.

Until the murder of both of her parents. Until that murder was pinned on an Ishvalan refugee. Until King Bradley of Amestris lent aid, despite a grieving Queen Mother’s firm protests, and slowly started sending his soldiers into Resembool. With grim regret, Pinako opened her granddaughter’s eyes to the horrors beyond the palace walls, taking her to fit prosthetics she’d made onto the people who needed them and using the private surgery times to counsel the princess on what she believed Bradley’s true motivations were. As such, Winry never fell for the king’s attempts at charming her like her brothers did, knowing his moves to be the seductive lure of a snake before it struck.

“It’s the year of your fifteenth birthday, Winry.” Pinako paused for a moment to wipe the forehead of the patient lying unconscious before her on the operating table. “It is time for The Questing. I believe Bradley means to either wed you or kill you once the Promised Day arrives. Either way, he wants Resembool as his.”

“I’ll need to find a prince who can fight him, then,” Winry said, the same steel in her eyes that she got when she held a patient through their fitting or their rehab. “Because more kingdoms will fall if Resembool is assimilated into Amestris. Ishval, for one. Right?”

Pinako nodded, and the two were silent for long moments, focusing on the Automail adjustment and repair that they were busy with. “Still... Winry... You’ll only have three months. And if you cannot find anybody strong enough, or if you... do not return... Bradley will still take the throne by force.”

“I know of a prince,” a hoarse voice said.

Both women jumped and looked down at their current patient, who was looking at them with eyes tight with pain but sharp with purpose. At first, Pinako tried to lead her away from the topic, but the woman would not be dissuaded from speaking. She said her real name was Lan Fan, and that, a year ago, she had accompanied one of the many princes of the Kingdom of Xing across the desert to this side of the known world. They came in search of a way to secure the prince’s rise to the throne, but got separated in a mixture of adventures. Lan Fan found herself in Amestris, and used her art of concealment to spy on Bradley, finding the cruel heart he bore beneath the charming smiles. She was nearly caught and killed, but managed to escape with only the loss of her arm. She did not know where her prince was, but, if Winry could find her grandfather, who had come this side many years ago without returning, she may have a chance.

“Search for Old Man Fu. The... last place... he was seen... was at... the crossroads along... the East Road. When you find him, tell him... about me... and ask... ask him to help you find the Master, Ling Yao. He... is the prince that you need.”

Pinako and Winry shared a glance before the young princess mopped the patient’s brow. “And you’re trustworthy, I suppose?” Pinako asked, in that blunt fashion of hers, continuing with a bit of the operation.

Lan Fan looked at her defiantly. “My loyalty... is to the Master. If he... cannot get... his rightful place in Xing, I will serve... him as king... _here_.”

“It’s your choice, child,” Pinako told Winry, her eyes strangely hard.

Winry hesitated, then nodded, committing to the plan. In the days that followed, they secretly discussed plans with Lan Fan, who would stay in the palace to recover, close to Pinako for the two of them to aid one another while Winry went to look for Ling Yao. All too soon, the day of The Questing dawned upon them, and the kingdom came together to wave goodbye to their three young royals. Winry hung back and let the people mourn for her brothers, whom they were unlikely to see again except if they came to Resembool on invitation to special events. While they said their final goodbye, the Queen Mother drew her aside and gave her some last words of advice. When she was done, she hugged her granddaughter tight and long, and Winry fought not to cry.

“Remember that there is strong power in a princess’s kiss, Winry,” Pinako murmured into her ear. “It is a magic with laws too strange and ancient to know. Do not give it lightly, for, if a bond is formed, it will be an unbreakable one.”

“I understand, Granny.”

“Winry...” Pinako suddenly looked older than Winry had ever seen her. “Perhaps... child, perhaps you should run...Go to Rush Valley and live out your passion for Automail there. You will be happy. And unharmed.”

Winry jutted out her chin, eyes blazing. “These are my people. It is _my_ duty. And my honour. I can’t leave them any more than I could leave you to die.”

Pinako sighed, long and deep. “You are too much a princess.” She wagged a finger in Winry’s face. “Then don’t die, girl.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Still, Winry cried as she waved goodbye, and didn’t stop until she and her brothers had ridden many leagues from the palace gates. Winry insisted that they ride on the Eastern Road and, without any preference, her brothers went with her, only curious about her actions when they noticed that she was asking every old man they saw if he was Old Man Fu. The first two weeks of their journey dragged on enough that Dominic and Yuriy eventually joined in her game of questioning old men and so, when they came to a sudden place where the grand East Road split in three, Dominic looked at the dirty old man sitting on a stump at the forks and asked the question out of habit.

“You there! Are you Old Man Fu?”

The man squinted at him for a moment and then said, with reluctance. “I am.” More decisively he added, “And that’s one.”

Winry’s heart leapt in delight, but her brothers frowned in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘and that’s one’?” Yuriy asked, curiously.

“I’ve been cursed by the sorcerer Kimblee to sit here for all my days and answer exactly one question from every person who passes. And that’s two.”

The siblings shared bewildered glances, and her brothers shrugged at her. They tried asking the old man other questions, but he remained stoically silent, looking down at the dust in the ground. Winry bit her lip. She _needed_ to find Ling Yao, in order to save Resembool and those she loved. But the man looked so tired and thin and dirty and thirsty, and she knew that magic could sustain somebody’s life without truly satisfying hunger or thirst. After a few more minutes of deliberation, and begged her grandmother’s forgiveness internally before crouching slightly.

“Sir... is there anything I can do to help you?”

For a moment, the man only stared at her. Then he grinned, viciously, and leapt to his feet, spouting Xingese she could not understand. Her brothers reached for their swords when he grasped her hands, but he only shook them, warmly, before bowing to her.

“Thank you,” he said, before bowing again. “Thank you. I could never leave there until a person asked me that question. Now I am free. I am free. Thank you.”

“Does this mean you can answer more questions from us?” Dominic asked, and the man answered in the affirmative.

“Where do these roads lead?” Yuriy asked, pointing. “We are on quests, each of us seeking our fortunes.”

Old Man Fu described some potential quests and fortunes along the first road, and, even before he had finished, Prince Dominic the Thirteenth decided to take it. Embracing his brother and kissing his sister, he galloped his horse down the road. Old Man Fu described some potential quests and fortunes along the second road, and, even before he had finished, Prince Yuriy the Thirteenth decided to take it. He kissed his sister, bowed to Old Man Fu and galloped his horse down the road.

“And you, kind princess? I owe you my freedom.”

“Then perhaps that will make you more inclined to help me, sir,” she replied. “I’ve been looking for you on my journey so far. I have met your granddaughter, Lan Fan, and she told me you may be able to help our misfortunes.”

The old man let out a noise of surprise at her news, and Winry explained, in brief, all that was happening in Resembool, and the plan afoot to stop it.

“I must go to Resembool and join Lan Fan there. I will ensure your grandmother is safe, Princess, and will begin preparing things for your return with our good Young Master.”

“You’re not coming with me to find him?” Winry asked, alarmed.

“No, Princess. I have tried to free the Young Master once before. It was what got me cursed and set here. I cannot go back; strong magic prevents me. But you have not attempted the quest yet. You can go, and you can free him, and we will wait for you in Resembool.” Winry bit her lip so she did not cry, and nodded resolutely. “You will find Ling Yao down the third road. Ride on it for three days and a noon, and then turn left onto a path mostly hidden. It will take you to a sorcerer’s house, where Ling Yao is being held captive. Once there, you must ask to work for the sorcerer three times. In exchange for your work, you must ask for a mirror to look into, a comb for your hair and a ring for your finger.”

“And then what? How will these items help?”

“I’m afraid, Princess, that I do not know.” The old man shook his head, weary and ashamed. “I failed to get that far. I know only what I have since learned. I’m sorry I cannot be more help.”

Winry gave him a watery smile. “Don’t worry. Questing is in my blood – my family has been bringing back trapped royals for centuries. I will do the same.”

The two clasped hands, bowed to one another, and Old Man Fu set along the way to Resembool, moving faster than Winry had thought possible. With a deep breath, she mounted her horse and started down the third path at a determined trot. She was very aware how alone she was, in that moment, and felt her hands tighten on the reigns until her grip hurt. But then she remembered her parents and her grandmother and the people of her country, and she relaxed her grip and straightened her posture.

“I know where Prince Ling Yao is,” she said, aloud. “And I’ve been assured he can help. I will set him free from the sorcerer, and he will help me fight off Bradley. And the kingdom will be safe.” Winry was able to smile, after that, her fear retreating to something smaller and more manageable. “There,” she told the trees as she passed them “That doesn’t sound too hard. I can do this.”

She spurred her horse to a faster gait, determined and hopeful as she set a course for the sorcerer’s house.


	2. Your Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry meets the sorcerer, completes the first task, and learns that not all is as it seems in the legend about the supposed evil captor of her prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for the chapter: Nina is in it. I think you should all know what that means.

Winry was surprised when she pushed aside more low-hanging tree branches and caught her first glimpse of what must be the sorcerer’s house. It was a medium-sized cottage, with a large front lawn and a paddock for a horse she could not immediately see out behind it. To the left was a smaller building that looked to be storage of some kind, and on the lawn was a suit of armour in pieces, drying in the sun, and a black-haired form sprawled on the grass, seemingly asleep. Winry dismounted and, with nerves bubbling inside of her, she tied her horse to the front gate and let herself in, stepping cautiously to the sleeping Xingese.

“Excuse me.” The man on the lawn did not move. “Um. Excuse me? Is this... Are you Prince Ling Yao?”

One eye opened, very slightly. “It depends who’s asking. Why are you looking for him?”

“Old Man Fu... said he was at a house where I could find work,” Winry said, carefully.

For a moment, both eyes were opened wide and sharp. Then the sleepy face returned. “I’m Ling Yao. Also... please move a little to the left. You’re blocking the sun.”

Some doubt and dismay settled into Winry’s stomach, and she stared at the prince on the grass until he told her again to move. Anger flaring, Winry spun on her heel and headed toward the gate, before taking a deep breath and stopping herself. It could be the magic, she reasoned, that was making him so... sluggish. If two people believed so in his ability to help her... well. She’d have to trust them. She had no other choice. Winry turned and marched instead to the front door of the cottage, hoping the sorcerer in residence wouldn’t mind too much that she knocked without invitation. She didn’t much want to be turned into a toad.

“Good afternoon, there!” a slightly tinny voice said, and Winry turned to the left automatically. “May I help you?” an arm of the armour waved at her, attached to nothing.

When she realised, a moment later, that it was the pieces of armour addressing her, Winry let out a startled little yelp and backed up instinctively, one hand flying to cover her mouth. The armour hands both at once started waving frantically as the head called apologies.

“That’s... I’m sorry. I don’t... mean to be rude. I was just... I’ve never seen...”

“Hold on, miss, let me just... uh... pull myself together.” She watched in fascination as the magic armour reassembled itself with ease. When it stood, it _towered_ over her, face severe, spikes sharp and gleaming. But the voice it had used was that of a young man, and the first thing that it did when it was on its feet was bow to her. “Apologies again. My name is Alphonse. How may I help you?”

“Are you... do you... I mean, I’m looking for the sorcerer who lives here?”

“Are you here for Sorcerer Elric to give you some magic help?” the armour called Alphonse checked, brightly. “He’s... a little busy at the moment, but if you can wait for five minutes, I can go and fetch – ”

“No, no, there’s no rush. I... I’m looking for work, not for a spell,” she said. “Uh... I’m Prin – Winry. I’m Winry. Somebody... said I could inquire here?”

The armour straightened and became very, very still, and Winry blinked at it. When no response at all came for close to a minute, she began to feel nervous. Then the tinny voice let out a noise of delight, and a gauntlet caught her – very gently – on the wrist.

“That’s _wonderful_ ,” Alphonse said, clearly delighted. “Come in, come in, come in!”

Without waiting for a response, he tugged Winry through the door and down a hallway. She tried to protest, and tried to see which way she was going and how to get out, but he was going too fast for her. Alphonse pushed open a door and Winry’s words got lost in her throat at the sheer _number_ of books that the room held. Her gasp of awe seemed to be swallowed even as it sounded everywhere.

“Al?”

“This is Winry,” Alphonse said, still excited, apparently addressing the person who had spoken. Gently, the armour pulled her forward, and she stopped gawping at the books enough to look for the speaker. “She’d like to work for you, Sorcerer Elric.”

The sorcerer straightened, his neutral expression becoming instantly guarded as he looked her over. For her part, Winry could only stare, flummoxed that the sorcerer was, by all appearances, no older than she was. And just a little shorter than she was, if she had to guess. Even more surprising was that the long hair pulled into a braid was like spun gold, and the eyes narrowed in suspicion were much the same. She’d heard stories of how the fallen citizens of Xerxes had looked from her grandmother; she’d just never thought she’d _see_ one, in her lifetime. The sorcerer’s scowl deepened, and he crossed his arms.

“What do you want?” he snapped, rudely.

Her spine straightened almost automatically, her surprise still making her unsure how afraid of this sorcerer she should be. She’d been born in a land of magic, and had royal blood in her; she could _feel_ the undercurrent of power in this place. But if he knew how to wield it, and how cruel a kidnapper of princes would be...

“My name is Winry,” she said, again, politely. “I’m so sorry to just arrive with no –”

“Well, then you can go,” the sorcerer snorted, and Winry felt her teeth gritting a little.

“Please,” she said, a little more forcefully.

“No need to say please. You can go freely.”

Winry couldn’t help it; she glared at him. “I want a _job_ ,” she said through gritted teeth.

“If you head to the nearest town and ask around – ”

“Stop being _insufferable_! I would like to _work for you,_ ” she snapped before she could stop herself, and then she reared back in shock at her own impoliteness.

To her surprise, the sorcerer only blinked and then smiled, almost a little ruefully. “You may have the job,” he said. Then tipped his head to the armour. “Al will show you your room. You can eat with us later. Or not. The locks on the inside of the doors work. Just so you’re aware.”

Gently, Al lead her out the door again while the sorcerer returned his gaze to the books before him, bangs covering his expression. As she left, she realised she hadn’t responded, and she opened her mouth to say thank you. But Al shook her arm a little and then shook his head, murmuring that she should not thank him for that. Confused but compliant, Winry let the armour show her to a small, neat, plain little room near the front of the cottage. She had no belongings to unpack and, unsure where she was allowed to wander, she sat on the chair at the window and watched Prince Ling sunning himself. A pack of dogs of all sizes ran past at one point, all barking madly, but the rest of the day was peaceful. And, to her idle hands and idle mind, rather boring.

It was one of the main reasons she decided to have supper with the sorcerer. The armour sat with them, but did not eat, and Winry was most surprised by the casual way in which the captive prince spoke to his captor. But the sorcerer looked grave and said little, and, as soon as Winry was finished eating, he rose and silently beckoned her to follow him. By the light of a single lantern, he led her to the building she’d thought of as storage. He opened the door and silently stood aside, letting her enter. The floor was bedded with soft hay, and the dogs she’d glimpsed earlier were all there. They all wagged their tails at her entrance, and she smiled at them before turning to the sorcerer. He was looking straight ahead, neither at her nor the dogs.

“Tonight,” he said, tonelessly, “you guard my hounds. As soon as the clock strikes eight, the door will lock. At the first light of morning, I will be back to let you out.”

Without another word, the sorcerer spun on his heel and slammed the door behind him. Winry stared, and one of the dogs whimpered sadly. Turning back to the pack, Winry carefully catalogued what she was dealing with – six dogs, all different breeds. Many of them were medium sized, but there was one small black one who kept wagging its tail at her and one very large white one that remained skulking in the corner, face to the wall. Upon closer inspection, Winry felt her stomach flip nervously. The giant dog was... odd. Even as it hid in the shadows, Winry could tell that, while most of it was white, it had a very peculiar _mane_ of brown fur from its head down its back. Almost like a wig of human hair.

Suddenly, all the dogs turned to look at the door with their ears pricked and their bodies still. Even the dog hiding in the corner swivvled its head to look. There was the sound of the lock turning, and Winry registered that it must be eight o'clock. As soon as the thought entered her mind the dogs' heads swivvled toward her, and all of them began to snarl menacingly. Winry's heart leapt into her throat, pounding in fear, as the pack advanced a few steps, teeth bared and bodies tense. She'd seen enough dogs growing up that she knew not to run from them, and so her steps back were cautious and slow, even though her knees had started shaking in fear. The dogs advanced with her, still growling.

"H...hey," she tried. "I'm... I'm a friend. Your master... he let me in here. It's okay. Hey."

But the dogs continued to growl, and Winry was running out of places to go. An irrational part of her mind told her to check the door, even though she was _sure_ she'd heard it lock. But the dogs stood between her and it, and there was nothing that she could use as a weapon. Maybe she could fight them? Not if all of them attacked at once but... but if one went for her alone, she could subdue it and... maybe that would warn the rest of the pack off...

"Stop," she said, forcing her voice steady, even though the fear continued to burn in her veins. "Stop. _Sit_. I'm your friend."

The dogs did not listen... but nor did they advance. Winry realised with a start that they had remained the same distance away from her that they'd started at, only advancing when she backed away. Shaking, and trying not to show it in case they could smell her fear, Winry made her back straight and took a step toward the dogs. They neither backed up nor came any closer.

"Well, it was worth a shot," she sighed, as the dogs continued to snarl at her.

"Friend?" The voice was distorted; thick and unsure of its sounds. And it came from the corner of the room.

Winry's heart began to hammer at double speed again, and she looked over to where the sound had come from. The giant dog hadn't moved from its perch, but it was twisted around and looking at her with white eyes that were entirely too creepy. Its head was cocked to one side. And then its mouth opened.

"Friend?" the dog said again, and Winry didn't know whether to be horrified, surprised or relieved.

"Y...yeah. I'm your friend."

"You... play with me?" the dog asked her, distorted voice getting a little more hopeful. Winry hesitated to answer. "Lone...ly," the dog said, mournfully.

Winry's heart went out to the strange creature, and she wondered what would have possessed the sorcerer to make a dog that could talk. Maybe people with that much magic and not a lot of responsibility just did selfish things like that, she thought. And her resolve to beat him at his games and free Ling Yao only got stronger. "Yes. I'll play with you. I'm Winry."

"Nina," the dog said, its tail thumping twice on the floor. "Nina. Play with me, Big Sister."

The dog got slowly and laboriously to her feet and lumbered forward, looking unsteady and whimpering softly every now and then as though it was in pain. The other dogs continued to snarl at Winry, but didn't stop Nina from making her way through the pack, nudging them aside with her bulk as she stumbled along. She sat in front of Winry, and Winry hesitantly ran her hands through her fur, noting the strange texture difference between the white fur and the long, hair-like fur.

"Nina... Do you know how to make the other dogs play with us, too?"

"Break magic," Nina said, eyes closed in pleasure as Winry petted her. "Say their names."

"I don't... I don't know their names. Do you?"

"Yes." Nina swung her head around to the pack, still moving slowly and with little grace. As her eyes travelled along the line of growling dogs, she mumbled out, "Fal...man. Breda. Hav...v...Havoc. Fuery. Hay...a...te."

One by one, the dogs stopped snarling, going quiet and loose and beginning to pant and wag their tails again. Cautiously, Winry called them closer and they came, sniffing at her and looking friendly. The smallest one, Hayate, curled up on her lap and went to sleep easily. After about an hour of talking to the dogs, they began to snarl at her again. Winry said their names and they quieted, and she realised she'd have to keep awake and keep speaking their names to keep them calm. And so she forced herself to stay up all night, even when the dogs fell asleep in a pile around her, telling them stories and dreams and Automail schematics, putting their names into her words as much as possible, just to keep them from turning on her.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening was unexpected enough that she started, and stared toward the wan rectangle of light in surprise. The sorcerer came in with an expression as grim as any she'd ever seen, which turned into surprise when he saw her buried under the bodies of the slowly waking dogs. He turned away after that, but Winry was _sure_ she had seen him looked utterly relieved. Alphonse the armour came bounding in, and he exclaimed in such delight that she was okay that the dogs woke up all the way. Al helped Winry to her feet, dusted her off some and kept babbling in overjoyed excitement. Winry wasn't paying attention to him; she was watching the sorcerer from the corner of her eye. Elric bent to greet each of the dogs, his face fond and his movements gentle. And they adored him, that much was sure. He sent the majority of the pack out, wiping his face clean of licks, and then knelt beside Nina, who had returned to her corner. There was a faint flash of light, but Winry couldn't hear or see anything else.

With a guilty start, she realised that Alphonse had stopped talking and was watching her openly watch the sorcerer. Winry blushed deeply, and was about to apologise when Elric stood up and came her way. There was a curious look on his face.

"Well done," he said, and his tone was sincere. "If you'd run from them, let your guard down or attacked, they would have killed you."

"Why would you train them to do that?" Winry demanded, sleeplessness making her prudence disappear. "And... Nina..."

She didn't know how to phrase her question; she only knew that there was something _wrong_ with the dog that the sorcerer had made speak. Something that made her sad inside even though she didn't understand it, yet. The sorcerer actually flinched, a little, and then turned expressionless and stiff.

"What do you want? As payment."

"Oh. Uh... a comb. For my hair." The sorcerer stiffened even more, so Winry found herself blurting out an explanation to hopefully throw him off any suspicions. "It's full of straw. I need to comb it out. Please."

"Fine." He turned on his heel and left.

"You can sleep for the morning, have lunch with us and then leave when you're refreshed," Alphonse said, amicably. "No need to rush off when you're so tired."

"Thank you," Winry murmured, and followed him to the house.

The sorcerer was standing in the hallway when they arrived, and he shoved a comb at her before stiffly bowing and making his escape again. Winry couldn't help but watch him go, puzzled by some things, but too tired to work out _what_ was bothering her. She fell asleep in her clothes, and slept until the early afternoon. When she awoke, noise from the lawn outside her window made her go and have a look. The sorcerer and the prince were fighting, but after a few baffled, fearful seconds she realised it was in practise and not to do real harm. Elric could hold his own, but the prince was slightly better, and Winry felt her spirits lifting. Lan Fan seemed to be correct; Ling would be the one to help her save her kingdom from Bradley. She watched further and became curious about the way the sorcerer moved; even though his red cloak hid his moves from view a little, she could still tell there was something slightly different about the way he moved. Something almost familiar to her eyes.

Her stomach growling made her go bathe and change her clothes, washing her dirty ones in the water while she was at it. Carrying the damp ones, she went in search of the laundry line, and found Al hanging out some things when she arrived. It was such an odd sight that she giggled a little, and Al was alerted to her presence.

"Ah, Miss Winry! How did you sleep?"

"Just Winry, is fine, Alphonse. And I slept well, thank you."

"Then just Al is fine for me. Do you want to hang those?" He offered her some pegs. And then, in a sly voice, he said, "But I don't think they'll be dry if you want to leave before dark."

Winry felt herself blushing a little. "I... um... I don't want to impose but... I was hoping I could ask Sorcerer Elric if I could work for him for another night." She could have _sworn_ the armour was beaming at her. "If he has another job for me to do, that is."

"Oh, I'm sure we can find something," Al said, a chuckle in his disembodied voice.

"He didn't seem like he wanted me to take the job yesterday," Winry said, trying to sneakily find out how much the sorcerer knew about the way to apparently undo him.

"Oh, don't mind his temper. Brother ju - " Al broke off, going very still.

Winry's heart clenched a little in an odd way. "Brother?" she asked, very softly.

"There's a lot to do around here," Al said hurriedly, but his tone was tight. His tone. A very human thing. In fact, if Winry hadn't seen him in pieces the day before, she'd be very sure he _was_ just a man in a suit.

"Alphonse." A human name, too. "Are you... Are you human?" Al said nothing, stiffly hanging laundry. "I'm sorry." She hung her own clothes. "I didn't mean to upset you."

She'd been hoping... she wasn't sure for what. An ally against the sorcerer? If he'd turned a human into a suit of armour and made it his slave, then she might have help getting Ling Yao free. Especially because Al had been nothing but kind and sweet to her up until then. But... but he'd called the sorcerer _brother_.

"It's a long story, Winry," Alphonse finally said. "But... yes. I was born human. To the same parents as... _the sorcerer_."

"You can tell me what happened," she coaxed, more out of genuine compassion than anything else.

The armoured head shook from side to side. "No. If I tell you, you'll think even more badly of Brother, I think. And that... wouldn't be fair."

Winry walked until she was in front of him so that he could _see_ when she folded her arms. "Try me," she dared. Al shook his head again. "Well, then tell me something good about him that will make me _like_ him," she said, exasperated. "Because all I've seen so far is a man who abuses his magic and has an awfully short fuse."

"Please... don't use that exact phrasing in front of him," Al murmured, sounding resigned.

Winry snorted and took a step closer to him, challengingly. "Why did he make Nina talk? Why did he magic his dogs to _kill_ people who want to work for him?"

"He didn't," Al said, quietly. Winry didn't budge, and the armour let out the equivalent of a sigh. "It's... the magic of this place, Winry. I can't... I'm not _allowed_ to tell you too much. Even if I wanted to, the magic would keep me from saying much. But... Brother didn't do this. The dogs..." Al stared at his gloved hands for a few moments.

"You can tell me, Al," Winry said, gently, now. "Please. I... I can't make an assumption about this place if I don't know any more than I can see."

"Most of the dogs were once our friends," Al murmured, ducking his armoured head. "Breda, Falman, Fuery, Havoc... they were... soldiers. Dogs of the military." The sardonic tone was not lost on Winry. "They came... they came to try and help us. Save us. And they were cursed into dogs. The magic makes them act under strict rules as soon as somebody is locked in the room with them at night. It's... they're just pieces in a game."

"And... Elric can't change the rules? He's a sorcerer." Al shook his head. "Why not? Who _can_ change it?"

"I can't _tell_ you," Al said, miserably. "I _want_ to. But I... I just tried, and the words won't come."

"If you write it down?" Winry suggested.

"Nothing but scribbles. We've tried," Al said, softly. "If somebody comes here asking for work, Brother is _compelled_ to agree. And _compelled_ to lock them in there with no explanation. He can't fight it any more than the dogs can."

Winry looked at the sky as it turned pink and orange, and digested the information. She wanted to ask if Elric was _compelled_ to keep Ling Yao prisoner there, too, but she didn't want to give her plan away. Just in case. Even though there was obviously more here than just an evil, angry little man abusing magic, Winry couldn't trust the sorcerer completely.

"And Nina? And Hayate? You only mentioned the other dogs. Er... men?"

"Black Hayate is just a dog," Al said, some more humour in his tone than before. "He belonged to... a friend. Brother is taking care of him until... until... his owner can take care of him again. Nina..." Al did that weird sort-of sigh again, and his gauntlets curled into fists. "Her father was a strong sorcerer. He... he did what you think Brother is doing. Abused his magic. Nina was... his daughter. Her dog, Alexander..." Winry gasped as the implications played out in her head.

"He turned...? Accidentally?"

"We don't think so," Al said, venom in his voice. "We got there too late to stop him. And we can't reverse it, yet. So we... take care of her. As much as we can. Until we can bring her back."

Winry helped Al hang up the rest of the laundry after that, lost in her own thoughts. Then she helped Al start dinner, a little surprised when the sorcerer came in to help as well. He was wary around her, short with his responses even though Al tried obviously to coax him into conversation. Finally, Winry tried as well, and, by the time dinner was on the stove busy bubbling, the sorcerer was a little bit friendlier.

"So you're... what? Staying here to freeload?"

"I'd like to work for you again. Please. I... need the work."

Elric raised an eyebrow at her. His jaw worked for a moment, and then he just sighed and nodded, and Winry wondered if there had been something he'd _wanted_ to say but couldn't. "It's too late for you to do the task I need tonight," he said, and he turned his head so that his bangs hid his eyes from her. "So... just... tomorrow night," he finished, a little lamely.

There was an awkward pause that Al broke by suggesting that Elric let Winry borrow a book to keep her busy. With a sharp nod, the sorcerer led her to the library of the day before, and then stood back as Winry let herself travel along the shelves in awe. Some of the books were in languages she didn't understand, and she wondered if the sorcerer hoarded or whether he could actually read them. She was about to ask if he could recommend something in the common tongue that wasn't a spellbook when she came across some tomes from Rush Valley. Her shriek of joy was unintentional but unconstrained, and it made the sorcerer jump visibly. When he asked her what was wrong, she held up the Automail manuals with joy and started explaining exactly what they were. His bewildered expression turned into one of bemusement, but he didn't stop her tirade even once.

"Maybe you can ask for one as your next payment, then," he said.

Winry's joy fell. "I... yes. Um. Maybe... I..."

The sorcerer met her eyes for a very long moment. And then he shook his head with a little smile that wasn't happy, and shook his head. "Supper will be ready soon."

"Right," Winry said, still clinging closely to the treasure of the books in her arms but feeling a lot less excited about them. "Thank you... um... Master Elric."

"My name is Edward." He looked at her, the golden eyes less guarded than she'd ever seen them. "Ed is fine."

Ed was more lively at dinner than he'd been the previous night, and he and Prince Ling Yao got into arguments about small things. Winry was surprised, at first, how friendly their petty fighting was, and actually started enjoying their back-and-forth by the time the meal was done. Al proved himself a dry wit, and his additions to the ridiculous banter of the other two men often had Winry laughing outright. Ling Yao escaped the order to do dishes, as he'd been the only one not to help cook, and Winry snuck out to talk to him where he was lounging on a windowsill in the sitting room.

"Ling... does Ed... does the sorcerer treat you... fairly?"

It _mattered_ to her to know, somehow. Something about Al's conversation earlier made it _matter_.

"He's a hothead and an idiot about some things. And _malicious_ if you wind him up the wrong way. But... never cruel." Ling sized her up, and Winry hoped he found her approving. And wished that some... spark or something would light in her. This was, after all, the man she was going to marry. The idea seemed less appealing now that there was a real human attached to it. "You're... here for a reason, aren't you? You've asked to work for him twice..."

"Yes." Winry cleared her throat. "I..."

"Don't," he said, sharply. "The walls here... have ears." He grinned sardonically. "Or some part of the house is listening, in any case." Winry nodded, understanding, clutching her Rush Valley books to her chest as comfort. "How much have you been told about the ring Ed wears on his finger?" Winry hadn't even noticed it, to be honest. But... a ring was the last thing she had to ask for. She shook her head, wordlessly, at Ling's question. "They say it's the only thing keeping this place together. If it's taken off the property, the whole house will go up in flames and burn to the ground. With everybody in it." Winry felt a chill go down her spine. "That's what I heard others say, at least. I just thought you should maybe know that."

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Sure." He stretched and got up. "I think they're done in the kitchen. I'm going to go and steal some cheese. Do you want some?"

Winry shook her head, said goodnight, and went to her room to read. But, even once she'd turned out the light to go to sleep, she couldn't help turning things over in her head again and again, trying to make it all fit when it would not.

The next day passed too quickly for her liking, and, before she felt entirely ready, supper was over and she was following a quiet Ed to behind the house. There was a stable there, and he opened the door for her and let her go inside. Her horse was there, and she spared a moment greeting her before a loud string of curses from the sorcerer made her startle and look over. Another horse was in the stable, this one free from any stall or tie. And it had, from what it looked like, just bitten Ed's hand.

"Are... you okay?"

Ed snapped his mouth shut on his next curse and backed away from the horse. "This," he spat. "Is Mustang. He's a right... _bastard_ even at the _best_ of times." The horse looked... smugly amused, as it surveyed Ed. Ed actually flipped the horse the middle finger. "Good freaking _luck_ ," Ed muttered at her, and stomped out the stable.

Mustang turned to look at her, and she smiled at him, suspecting that he was as much a horse as the dogs had been dogs. He certainly acted less like a horse than any horse she'd ever seen. "I'm Winry," she told him, just in case. "I guess we're stuck here together for the night."

The horse's ears flattened, and he snorted and tossed his head. And then he went rigid, staring at the door to the stable. A moment later, the sound of a deadbolt sliding home, impossibly loud, rang through the stable. Immediately, Mustang shrieked and reared, and her horse shied to the corner of her stall, snorting nervously.

"Mustang," Winry said, clearly. "I'm your friend, Mustang."

But the magic of his name didn't work this time – and Winry should have _known_ that, when Ed introduced her to the horse by name. He hadn't done that with the dogs. Presumably hadn't been allowed to. So this problem required a different solution; one she had to figure out without a helpful Nina at her side. Taking a deep breath, Winry moved toward the horse, making him rear and shriek in anger again. She knew enough to avoid the flailing hooves, ducking low and looking for some way to restrain him, if nothing else. What she spotted instead was black masses appearing on his coat, matting into the hair in ways she’d seen all too often to the horses that travelled from outside Resembool.

“Oh, poor Mustang. Those are fireblights on you.” The plant was a nasty one in itself, poisonous to all who ate it. But its seeds were particularly cruel, with barbs that went straight into flesh and secreted a liquid that made their point of injury burn like it was on fire. And the horse in front of her was being slowly covered by them, being driven madder and madder by the pain as time wore on. “That’s _so_ unfair to you,” Winry snapped to herself, glowering. “Why must _you_ be hurt for this stupid quest?”

With the anger fuelling her, Winry stood up and, when Mustang was briefly on all fours again, darted forward and grabbed his head. Ed had left a halter on, thankfully, and Winry managed to hold on as Mustang once again reared, throwing all her weight into keeping the horse grounded. Murmuring nonsense to him, she kept one hand on the halter and used the other to begin picking off the nearest fireblight burrs. They burned and scratched her fingers, but she continued, holding on when Mustang reared and then going back to her task as soon as he was down once more. Slowly but surely, he calmed, until she was able to move around him to pick off the burrs with both hands. They kept magically reappearing, however, and she could not rest in her task. She thought of Granny, of Automail surgeries, of her people, of her own strength, and she kept going, even as her hands became raw enough to bleed freely over the stable floor.

She was in such a stupor of repressed pain and determination and exhaustion that the hand on her wrist seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She startled to find Ed there, looking with a frown at her hands. Without a word, he produced strips of bandages and gently bound both her aching, bleeding appendages. Then he began picking off the last of the burrs from Mustang’s coat with one hand, still without a word, seemingly completely unconcerned with them biting into his flesh. His left hand, curiously, remained curled around Winry’s wrist. It felt more... anchoring, than restricting. Especially when he gently tugged her toward the door, and she realised she was drained enough by the evening and all the places her mind had gone to need his direction. As he passed, he put one hand on Mustang’s head. The horse, rather than snap at him as he had done the night before, blew gently into Ed’s face.

Ed took her to her room, sat her on the bed, and then knelt down in front of her. “May I heal your hands?” he asked her, quietly.

And it might have just been how tired she was, but she was sure those gold eyes were burning as they looked at hers. She nodded, mutely, and Ed took her left hand in his. Through the glove torn by the burrs, Winry could feel something cold and almost metallic. The sorcerer murmured some words, there was a flash of blue and warm air, and her left hand felt instantly better. He repeated the process with her right hand and then got to his feet.

“Sleep now. You can have... whatever meal when you wake up. And... um... leave the bandages on. Your hands are better, but not fully healed.” He shifted from foot to foot, looking everywhere but her. “You can stay here. Until your hands are healed. However long... I mean. If you want.”

“Thank you,” she said, and meant it. There were other words, but they were trapped under her hurt and her exhaustion. “Ed?”

“Yeah?”

“Does that... does that happen to Mustang... every night?”

“No,” Ed responded, at once. “Only when... somebody else is there.”

Winry closed her eyes and felt a few tears escape. “Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Ed said, and then muttered something she almost caught. Something like _if only he believed that, too_. “I’m... you’re... crying...”

He sounded bewildered and awkward by the fact, and it made Winry laugh a little. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just... It’s awful having to watch people suffer.” Ed didn’t reply, and she forced her eyes open to look at him. He simply stared at her, for a very long time. “What?” she finally asked, and wished it hadn’t come out sounding so rude.

“I... Winry...” Then he shook his head. “What do you want? As payment?”

“A mirror. To look into.” She purposefully didn’t look at the grand mirror attached to the dresser in the corner of the room. Winry could have sworn Ed’s not-looking was just as purposeful.

“Sure. I’ll... leave it outside your door.”

“Thank you.”

When he left, she curled up on her bed, angled so she could see herself in the dresser mirror, and fell asleep looking at her eyes and wondering about herself, this house, magic, and true, kind liberation.


	3. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the sorcerer turning out to be not so evil, Winry finds herself doubting her original plan. But Resembool still needs to be saved, and it seems unlikely she'll find another way to do so without Ling Yao's help.

Winry woke in the awkward lull between lunch and dinner, and was hungry enough to contemplate sneaking around for food. Or, at the very least, sheepishly asking Al if she could have a snack; the armour was very clearly the one running the household. When she cracked the door to her room open she found on the floor before it a handheld mirror, a change of clothes and some fruit. The clothes were for men, but she’d been wearing her brother’s clothes slightly modified by her grandmother’s hand for most of her life, save for on formal occasions, and they were warm and soft enough that they were a relief. With hands that only ached slightly, Winry left her dirty clothes to rinse in the tub and then ravenously munched through the fruit as she took a turn around the cottage, not quite admitting to herself that she was seeking company.

The first person she found was Ling, who was once again asleep in the sun outside, lazily unconcerned with the world around him. For a while she sat and let him be, but the events of the past few days kept crowding around in her brain, looping over and over and making the quest that had once been so easy feel suddenly overwhelming in its complexity. Eventually, she turned to Ling and, mindful of all he’d said before about the house _listening_ and about all she knew and was learning about magic, she tried to figure out _why_ Ed had kidnapped him.

“Ling... The... reason you’re... I mean, did you ever try to... do the three tasks?”

Ling rolled over to look at her, face that mix of curious and cautious that perfectly balanced the two sides to him she’d seen so far. “Yeah,” he said, slowly. “I did the first. Couldn’t figure out the second. Used a magical favour from my mother and the enchantresses she is related to so I didn’t get trampled to death.”

“And... you wouldn’t... want to try again?”

“Can’t.” Winry wasn’t surprised by that. “I tried, but the magic didn’t even lock me in the second time.”

“And you didn’t leave here after that?” Her heart had started to quicken a little in hopeful anticipation.

“Can’t,” Ling said, again, around a yawn.

“Because... the magic of the house is keeping you here?”

“Oh, no. Kimblee’s magic doesn’t have any claim to me,” he said with a wave of his hand.

The name twigged a bit of recognition, but she couldn’t place where. And, honestly, Winry was too busy being engulfed in painful disappointment. She’d hoped that Ling would have told her that it was the place, and not Ed, that bound him there. That the stories were _wrong_ and that Ed was innocent in it. Because she didn’t want to think of Ed being a sorcerer who kidnapped princes. Not when he’d been so gentle with her and the dogs, and so fond toward Al, and generous with his food and lodgings and even books.

_Al_. The remembrance that his state was, in some way, his brother’s fault, but that he didn’t want to tell Winry so she wouldn’t blame Ed for what he’d done... It was all so complicated. The evil sorcerer she was supposed to be besting so that she could earn her prince was turning out to be a lot more grey than she’d thought possible in a person. And it made Winry hesitant to ask about the third task. She was still determined to go home and save her country, of course, but the fact that her leaving would potentially burn down Ed and Al’s home, with all the human-animals in it, was niggling at her. She tried to argue with herself that they didn’t _know_ what would happen if she left, but that just seemed more ominous. After all, she’d been assured that the objects she got from the task would _defeat_ the sorcerer, somehow. And she was no longer sure at all that that would be a _good_ thing.

Her indecision stretched through the days, and nobody around her made so much as a comment about the fact that she had, for all intents and purposes, quietly moved in without asking. During the day she helped Al around the house, learned that Ed had housekeeping tasks as well mostly associated with the animals, learned that Ling really _did_ do nothing much and, when there were lulls, read in Ed’s library. She’d meant, the first time she’d gone in to get another book, to take it with her to her room, but she’d started reading the first few pages to make sure she’d like it, and then just found herself getting engrossed and staying. Finally, Ed offered – awkwardly – that she join him on the couch. And she’d just... kept going back to that spot, sometimes stretching out across the plushness alone and sometimes surprising herself by being just as content to keep to her half, she and Ed buried into their own respective worlds.

That was the downside of her deliberation: the more she hesitated, the more she learned about Al and Ling and Ed. She grew to adore Alphonse more each day, grew to respect and understand Ed almost as quickly and learned that Ling, while funny and smart in his own right, would never be a man she could fall in love with. The latter was the biggest blow. She hadn’t even realised she’d been quietly hopeful, somewhere underneath the urgency, that she would have what her mother and father and her grandparents had had with one another until it was clear that she never would. It was a selfish sort of grieving that she did about that, late at night when she was alone in the room she was really starting to think of as _hers_. Sometimes, just before falling asleep, she’d wonder what it would be like to just... forget who she was. To just remain Winry, house help for a sorcerer with a short temper and a heart as golden as his eyes.

Almost two weeks later, on a grey afternoon threatening to storm heavily at any second, Winry left to go and help Al with dinner and was called back. Ed had been unusually restless all day, moving from task to task and from place to place around the library when he would normally sit in one spot with one book for hours, completely lost to the world. She’d hesitantly asked, once, if anything was the matter, but he’d brushed her off and she’d been too uncertain of her boundaries to dare ask again. When he called her back, therefore, she was apprehensive, and watched him dart his eyes around the room, shift all his weight to one leg and then subconsciously grasp one shoulder, body language she’d never seen on him before.

“The books.” She blinked at him, and he inclined his head to the pile of Rush Valley books she’d read since she was there. For a moment, she was more confused than she had been – she could have _sworn_ she’d put them back on the shelf where she’d found them, not left them lying in a neat stack on Ed’s desk. “Take them.”

“I’m... sorry? To where?”

Ed gave a half-shrug with the shoulder he wasn’t still grasping. He looked away from her in a physical tell that was more familiar. “Wherever you’re going next. You can have them – I’m giving them to you,” he clarified, when she still didn’t get it.

Her stomach lurched. “Are – really? I can’t... I haven’t...” A horrifying thought crashed into her. “I haven’t accidentally done the third task, have I?”

And then the horror intensified, because she realised she’d just admitted out loud to knowing that she was there doing tasks he was obligated to let her do so that she could bring about his fall. She was sure he’d known from the very moment she’d come, of course, but it had always been an elephant in the room between them. As long as she hadn’t said it out loud, she didn’t need to remember that she was there under false pretences. Ed’s eyes met hers, and for a long moment they only stared at each other before she looked away, embarrassed, guilty, determined. _Angry_ at him for making her feel all those things.

“No,” Ed said, at last. “This isn’t... They’re just... You enjoy them. So I’d rather you have them than they be turned to ash.”

He didn’t sound angry, only resigned, but it still cut her to the heart. There was no more hiding, and no more waiting. He’d reminded her of why she was there, and the books on the table reminded her of the Granny she had left behind. All her people. The Promised Day would be so soon, and Bradley would be able to take Resembool if she didn’t bring Ling back. She _had_ to. It was her duty to her people. But, more than that, it was her desire to help save them.

Still, she looked at Ed’s feet when she asked if she could work for him one last time. And his voice was hollow when he said that she could, that evening after supper. He brought the books to her when she didn’t move, and she took them from him without looking at him, and then fled the room and only came down when Al came to knock on her door and wheedled her to supper. Ling and Al tried to carry the conversation, but neither she nor Ed rose to the occasion, and she didn’t eat much before she was wordlessly given a cloak by Ed – it was one like his, complete with the strange black symbol on the back – and then led out into the night. He was limping slightly, she realised, and she wanted to ask about it but couldn’t find the words.

Ed took her to a little staircase on the outside of the room where the dogs spent the night, which ended, she found, in a little room with huge windows. The only item in the room was the branches of an old, dead tree. Perched on one of the branches was a beautiful hawk, who pierced them both with a look as soon as they entered. With a soft, almost haunting cry, the hawk glided over to Ed, who half extended his right arm for it to land on. Ed quietly introduced the hawk as Hawkeye, set down the candlestick on a part of the tree and went about closing the shutters of the room while the hawk moved to his shoulder and preened his hair. Winry, at a loss in the silence, helped him shutter closed the windows. When they were done they both stared at each other, a little helplessly, and then Ed returned Hawkeye to her perch and left without a word and without taking the light with him.

“I’m guessing you’re... not just a hawk,” Winry said, giving Hawkeye a wan smile. “Either that, or Ed is really _terrible_ at naming animals.” The bird gave her a look that seemed, to Winry’s mind, almost challenging. She was probably just projecting, but it almost felt as though she was being asked whether she was _sure_ she wanted to risk hurting Ed and Al in the way she was planning. “And I don’t suppose you can talk, like Nina? Or give... some indication of what’s going to happen once the doors lock?”

The hawk did not answer. Outside, it finally began to rain, softly at first and then so fast and loud that Winry missed the sound of the door locking. Hawkeye did not. Suddenly, the bird opened her wings and _shrieked_ in Winry, and that was all the warning she got before the bird dove at her. Winry instinctively ducked out of the way, but the hawk kept coming. Winry said her name over and over to no avail, and looked for anything that was hurting her, but it was difficult to see when she kept getting dive-bombed, and impossible to get close to pull anything off of her feathers, even if there _was_ something there. After nearly an hour of dodging the seemingly tireless bird, exhausted and wrought and close to tears herself, Winry decided to fight back.

Carrying Automail had made her strong enough to snap some of the dead branches off and to wave them as weapons against the hawk. It kept her from getting as close as she had been, but she did not stop. And her aim was unnervingly good; Winry was already scratched up pretty badly from the talons that only hadn’t landed home because the room was too small for the bird to fly properly in. And that gave Winry the idea to build a cage. It was trial and error, and she got a few good gauges in for her efforts, but she was finally able to snap enough branches for a makeshift cage. She bound them with strips of Ed’s cloak, apologising internally to him for ripping it, and then set about trying to fling the open-bottomed contraption onto the flying hawk. That took another hour or so but, finally, Hawkeye was trapped. She fought the confinement, of course, but Winry was determined as well, and held on to the edges of the cage.

“Please.” She was so tired she was almost aching with it, already. “Please stop. You’re... you’re hurting yourself. Hey. Hey.”

The hawk did not listen; only continued to scream and beat her wings. She was thrashing, Winry thought, in a daze, like a patient, wild with fever and pain. And so Winry did, out of desperation, what she did with those patients out of their mind who she couldn’t touch for fear of scaring them or disrupting some of the medical equipment: she sang. Singing got through to people more than talking did, because it was out of the ordinary. Because mothers sang to their children. Because melodies were soothing. And, sure enough, Hawkeye calmed down bit by bit, until she was docile and still and looking mostly asleep under the bars of the makeshift cage. Winry didn’t dare let go of the confinements, or stop singing, guessing from the previous two tasks that this was an all-night affair.

Ed found her lying on the floor, gripping the cage, head pillowed on one arm and voice cracking from overuse. First he opened all the windows, letting in the remnants of the storm. It was easing very slowly, but it would be another overcast day. Then, speaking to her gently as though _she_ were a spooked animal, Ed knelt beside her and peeled her hands off the cage, letting Hawkeye free. Winry forced herself into a seated position as Hawkeye flew to him at once. He gently checked her over with one hand, before murmuring something that made her take flight out the window.

“Can I heal your cuts?” Winry nodded, and Ed placed his hands over her cuts one by one, letting off magic that stitched them all closed, good as new.

When he was done, Ed reached around himself with his left arm, gripped a branch, and used it to haul himself to his feet. It was an awkward move for somebody usually so graceful, and Winry, tired as she was, blinked at it.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice hoarse and broken.

“Yeah.” He rotated his right shoulder and then winced, but held out his left hand to give her a hand up.

Accepting it made him wince again, and her concern ignited. And continued growing as she noticed that his limp from the day before was more pronounced; that he was having great difficulty descending the stairs. When he outright stumbled a little as they walked toward the house, Winry reached out for him automatically, his name croaking from her lips. She caught the sleeve of his coat and, as he turned in surprise, it rode up his arm, leaving a gap between the end of his ever-present glove and the sleeve she was clutching. In the moment it took Winry to comprehend what she was seeing, Ed already twisted loose and let the coat fall back down to cover his arm.

“You have Automail,” she said, surprised. In the wake of the surprise came exasperation at herself for not putting together the clues even sooner. Some mechanic she was.

“So what if I do?” Ed was scowling at her, but it was a defensive kind of rage.

“So what if you do?” she answered back, her abused voice cracking twice. She didn’t understand why he was going through such lengths to hide it. Or why he hadn’t told her after he’d found out she was a mechanic. Ed snorted rudely at her and turned on his heel as fast as he could, unsteady on his feet. His _feet_. Her stomach swooped. He had more than one Automail limb. “And the storm is making you ache,” she finished the thought out loud.

Ed’s shoulders grew more rigid, but he didn’t stop moving. Winry followed, determination and desire to help seeping through the tiredness. So much so that she followed Ed down the hallway to what she had suspected was his room instead of returning to hers. He jumped, a little, when he realised she was still behind him.

“I can help.”

“No, you can’t,” Ed snapped. “I don’t need you around these things.”

And then he snapped the door closed in her face. Winry stared at the wood for a moment, doing what she usually did with patients and irate citizens: first processing her own emotions, and then trying to see things from their perspective. Ed was ashamed of his Automail, she suspected. But... she’d told him stories about her encounters with it. Had that not made him want to open up more? A clanking she’d learned to know well made her turn her head to see Al approaching. Wordlessly, he handed her two hot water bottles and a jar of salve that made her think of Granny with a painful-warm swoop in her chest.

“You... you’re not going to hurt him, right, Winry?” Al asked, very quietly, suddenly sounding _young_. “I... I know you’re here... I know you’ve done the tasks... but... Please. Don’t hurt him in this way. Even if you do know how to more than anybody else who has been here.” He’d said _please_ , but the latter half of his speech came out distinctly threatening, and Winry had a sudden flash of the dogs-Mustang-Hawkeye-Al all coming for her at once.

“I would never use my knowledge of Automail to hurt somebody,” she said, hurt at the insinuation. Al’s expressionless face and soulfire eyes surveyed her for a long, long moment. “Al. I _swear_ I would never. Except... _maybe_ in self-defence.”

_That_ of all things, seemed to win him over. “Okay.” He sounded young again. “Okay.”

“Thank you for these,” she replied, and then juggled her load so she could open Ed’s door.

She went slowly, at first – while she’d seen patients in all stages of undress out of necessity, she knew Ed was private. And, if Al was any indication, suspicious of her motives around what she could easily use as weak points to her advantage. Especially now, when the pressure change in the weather due to the storm had to be making Ed’s stumps twinge like crazy. And, catching sight of him on the bed with his coat, gloves and shoes off, Winry had confirmation that they were _stumps_ in plural. Right arm, left leg. Her stomach twisted in sympathy. As great as Automail was – and she _knew_ it was fantastic – it also cost a lot for its brilliance to be a reality.

“Go away,” Ed snapped at her, tightly.

“No,” she responded, forcing as much authority into her sore voice. Ed’s eyes flew open, smouldering where they found her even as he didn’t attempt to rise, and she shook her head. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ed. I swear, I’m not. I’m just... this is what I _do_. This is what I love doing – helping people with Automail.” It didn’t get through to him, so she added, “And I need a way to pay you back for the last few weeks staying here free of charge, don’t I?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I want to give it, anyway. Ed... _Please._ This is... this is important.”

She hoped he wouldn’t ask her why, because she didn’t really know what the answer was. Instead, Ed only huffed in annoyance and then slowly, painfully rolled over onto his back. She took that as her permission, and started tending to his Automail as best she could. It was, in many ways, dissimilar to what Granny had taught her to make; clunky and cobbled-together. Even the ports could be so much more efficient, she realised. But what held her attention the most, even though she tried not to stare, were the scars. She _knew_ Automail scars of all kinds, but these were ones she’d seen very, very, very rarely. His loss of limbs had been caused by magic.

“Our mother died when I was five,” Ed said, suddenly and tonelessly. Winry froze in her settling of the last hot water bottle to watch him watch the ceiling. “We wanted... to try and bring her back.”

“But... necromancy – ”

“I know,” he said, still toneless. “But we tried, anyway. Went to a teacher. Thought we knew it all.” He was quiet for a long moment. “It took my leg and Al’s whole body. And I... I couldn’t properly bring him back.” Winry’s heart broke and sank into the pits of her stomach simultaneously. “I got the Automail so we could go out and look for a way to make my mistakes right. Get Al his body back. And we found...” His jaw kept working, but no sound came out.

“You can’t tell me the rest, can you?” she guessed, moving from a professional sit on the mattress beside him to a slump on her elbow. She was suddenly tired inside, as well. Ed shook his head, scowling. “Wait. How old were you when you tried to bring your mom back?” Another realisation struck her. “And how old are you _now_?” She’d assumed he was around mid-twenties, and just incredibly short for it.

“I was eleven. Al was ten.”

“ _Eleven_ ,” she gasped, the horror becoming even deeper.

“And... I’m sixteen.”

She had no answer for that; no words to express the shock and sadness and guilt and empathy and desire to shake out all the blame she heard in his voice. Mentally, she thanked Al for not telling her the story back when she’d first asked. She wouldn’t have understood. She would have hurt him with it. _Sixteen_. Her age. The great sorcerer, who really was powerful, she’d seen, and who was saddled with all those trapped and tortured creatures who had been harmed trying to help him, was only sixteen.

Ed suddenly moved, raising his Automail hand gingerly and slipping something off the pinky with his flesh hand. He held it out to Winry without a word. She took it automatically, and found herself staring at a ring. In the centre was a blood red stone that was cracked cleanly in two, held together only by the metal casing of the ring. A lump rose in Winry’s throat.

“Ed...” she said, and her hoarseness was not only due to her sore throat.

“It’s okay,” he said, oddly gentle.

“I...” _I need to save my kingdom. I’m sorry, but I need to save my kingdom._

“It’s okay, Winry. You earned it.” To her surprise, a smirk crossed his features. “I’ve... never met anybody as badass as you, you know that? And I’ve met _Hawkeye._ You’re... you completely _slew_ those challenges. And... you... kept them safe during it all. Thank you.”

Feeling worse, Winry only put the ring on, numbly, and let herself sink to the mattress beside Ed. They didn’t talk for a while after that, and she noticed that his breathing had evened out. She knew she should get up, check on the heat still in the hot water bottles, and then go and get some sleep herself, but the effort to get up proved too much.

The next thing she was aware of, at the back of her mind, was the rain. It was pounding against the window pane and the roof, soaking everything on the ground outside. Winry drifted back to sleep and then got pulled to half wakefulness again, something about the rain niggling at her. It struck like a flash of lightning, and it took all her self control not to sit bolt upright at once and thus potentially wake Ed, who was still asleep beside her. Instead, Winry made herself sit up slowly and then peel herself off the bed and tiptoe to the door and open and close it as softly as she could. As soon as it was closed, she took off at a sprint, banging into things as she ran to her room and started packing in a hurry, slipping the mirror and comb securely into the small pouch on her waist.

Because it was raining. It was raining hard enough that, if she left before it stopped, the rain water might be enough to stop the fire that was promised at her departure.

Hoping furiously that it would be enough – please. Please let her not kill them or hurt them seriously. Please let her be right about this – Winry shouldered her pack and ran to find Ling. He was drowsing in his favourite armchair – and Al was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. She wasn’t sure if Al would try to stop her, but there was no way she could fight a seven-foot tall suit of armour. She grabbed Ling’s wrist and yanked him to his feet without any ceremony.

“We have to go.”

“Wh- whoah. Hold on.”

“No! We can’t _hold on_.” Her voice still cracked slightly as she towed him along after her, the element of surprise making him more pliable than he might have been. “We have to go _now_ , Ling. I have to save my country. Bradley will _destroy_ them all, don’t you see? And then he’ll attack other places. You have to come with me.” A sob caught in her throat when Ling protested again. “Ling, _please_. Please. Please don’t make me fail them.” He stared at her, a little open-mouthed in his shock, and she pulled him into a run again.

She couldn’t look at Mustang as she saddled her horse, even though he kept making noises to call her over. Ling was silent and contemplative, but mounted the horse when she was done saddling it and then gave her a hand up. As soon as they dashed over the small wall, Winry felt the ring on her finger give an almighty shudder. The spasm of magic happening behind them was palpable, and Ling twisted around to look. Winry did not. The pelting rain hid the fact that she was crying as she road away, but did make the going difficult, even after they’d reached the wider road that Fu had sent Winry down what seemed like a lifetime ago. Forced to go slower lest the horse slip or run into something, Winry haunched over and prepared for a physically and emotionally miserable ride home.

She mistook the first boom as thunder, but then the noises came soon enough that she looked around and realised, with a jolt of _something_ that Ed, suddenly _giant_ , was loping toward them. Part of her was relieved he hadn’t died and was now free. Part of her knew she deserved to be caught for what she’d done. But she was a princess, and her country needed her. So she spurred her horse on as best as she could, even as Ed grew closer and closer. In some instinctive desperation, Winry reached into her bag for the comb and the mirror.

“You’re supposed to help,” she yelled at them. “How do you hel- oh!”

The comb fell from her fingers and landed on the ground. At once, a forest began to spring, up, trees towering and thick-trunked and so close together even large moths would have a problem navigating the space. It spread wide around them, and the booming of giant Ed’s footsteps stopped for a moment. But then the unmistakable sound of falling trees happened.

“He’s turned himself into an axe with his face,” Ling yelled at her, sounding gleeful. “You have to see this, it’s hilarious!”

Winry didn’t turn. The booming of Ed’s footsteps sounded again, and Winry threw down the mirror. It shattered, and then grew rapidly into a wide lake. As it grew, the rain dried up and the clouds disintegrated, as though the magical lake was sucking them all up in order to be formed.

“He’s... just swimming across it. That wasn’t very helpful,” Ling said, mildly.

Winry slipped the ring off her finger, held it tight to her heart, waited until Ed’s footsteps were _close –_ until a giant version of his voice said her name – and then she flung the ring down. There was no discernible change for a moment, and then Ed gave off a booming curse before a mighty crash happened. Winry twisted around to look, and found that the ring had enlarged greatly, and had wound itself around Ed’s legs, making him unable to run. Ed shrunk to his normal size, but the ring went with him, leaving him bound. Winry couldn’t stop looking; couldn’t stop twisting back every few seconds to see him struggling and failing to get to his feet.

She pulled her horse to a stop, trembling as much as the animal was.

“We can’t leave him there,” Ling said, voicing her exact thoughts. “Not like that.”

So Winry, heart in her dry, dry mouth, made the horse run back to Ed. Who glared up at her as she approached, furious like she’d seen him before and hurt like he’d never been.

“I’m sorry,” Winry blurted, biting her lip so she wouldn’t cry as she dismounted to face her shame. “I’m _sorry_ , Ed, but... I need Ling. I need him to come and save my country. So I had to free him from your hold.”

“My -?” Ed spluttered in indignation and then pointed an accusing finger at Ling, who was still on the horse. “I’ve been trying to get rid of that _lazy_ , bottomless _pit_ for _months_. He’s refused to leave, and every time I kicked him out he just kept coming back! _Please_ take him away!”

Winry stared at him. Then turned to Ling Yao. “You’re... not his prisoner?”

“What? Oh, no,” Ling said, cheerfully. “I went to the place because I heard Ed knew about the Stones. And I decided to stick around and wait until somebody freed him so he could lead me to them. It was much more comfortable there than waiting elsewhere.”

Ed muttered some dark, unsavoury things about Ling. Winry felt herself blinking, utterly confused and bewildered.

“But... but... but then... why were you chasing him?”

“I was chasing _you_ , idiot,” Ed snapped at her. He went a little pink. “Al overheard you yelling at Ling. He told me you were in trouble. I wanted to see if I... could help.” He looked away, blushing deeper. “You did set us free, after all.”

“So... so... there was no burning?” Winry asked, hopefully.

“No, the whole place is torched.” Winry’s heart plummeted. “But... doing it in the rain meant we could all easily get out. And take the most important books, too. Al is following with the menagerie.” He looked back at Winry, gaze intense. “Thank you. For... doing that. We... none of us have been able to leave in... a while. A long while.” And then his scowl came back. “But you didn’t have to freaking throw half of nature at me! And the ring! This is near impossible to release, you know!”

“You’ll just have to get around like a worm from now on,” Ling said, laughing outright. “This is going to be great to see.”

Ed let rip at Ling, stopping only when Al’s disapproving shout reached their ears. Al was carrying Nina and Hayate, the dogs milling around his feet, Mustang to his side with Hawkeye on Mustang’s shoulder.

“Oh, Brother,” Al sighed, staring at Ed on the ground. “How do you always make such a mess of things.”

Ed _seethed_. “This _wasn’t my fault_! _She_ threw this at me!”

“And the forest and the lake in the middle of the road, too!” Al chided.

“That was – _get off_ ,” Ed snarled at the dogs, who were all trying to lick his ears. “ _Off_! That was _her_ fault as well! Stop blaming me!”

Al’s gaze swivelled to Winry, and she raised her hands automatically in her defence. “Winry. Are you okay? I only caught snippets, but... you sound like you’re in trouble.”

With a little slightly hysterical laugh, Winry told them everything – who she was, what was happening to Resembool, and why she’d gone seeking Ling. She was interrupted a number of times, mostly by Ling when she mentioned Lan Fan and Fu, but once by the Elric brothers when she remembered who had cursed Fu in the first place.

“Okay,” Ling said, when he was done. “My turn. Because it turns out you need to hear what I couldn’t tell you before in Kimblee’s creepy little magic house.”

Ling told the story about being one of the many princes of Xing, and how, in a quest to become the next emperor, he’d set out to the distant kingdoms to find magic strong enough to keep his father alive, thus winning favour. He had taken his trusted friends and bodyguards, Lan Fan and her grandfather Fu, along with him. They’d heard that two people had access to the red stones of immense magic that could help, and, shortly after, they’d been separated. Thinking Lan Fan and Fu would go after the stone owned by the one called Kimblee, Ling had gone searching for the other sorcerer that was rumoured to hold the stone: Ed. But he’d found Ed only with a cracked, depleted stone, but with the knowledge of where the one called Kimblee was. And the deep-rooted desire to go after Kimblee for what he’d done. And the power and means to actually stop such a powerful sorcerer, which Ling recognised he did not have.

“And so I stuck by Ed. I knew someday he’d be able to go and find Kimblee, and he’d actually have a shot at beating him. If that took too long, I’d have gone off by myself to find plan B.”

“I doubt it,” Ed grumbled. “You were basically growing into the walls of that place. Like a fungus.”

For once, Ling didn’t rise to the bait. “The point is,” he said, “the person Fu and Lan Fan went after – the second person who was rumoured to have a red stone of power – ”

“Philosopher’s Stone,” Ed and Al corrected in unison.

“- whatever. That person was the sorcerer known as Kimblee. _But._ The person we managed to win the information out of said that Kimblee is bound to the service of the king of Amestris, Bradley.” Winry’s heart stopped beating as all turned to look to her. “So. Looks like you can take me where I need to go, after all.”

“If Kimblee is working for this king who is trying to take over...” Al was clearly agitated. “That’s... really not good.”

“Is... so... Kimblee... I mean... I know he cursed Old Man Fu to sit in the road and all that... and you guys... he... did something...”

“We went to Kimblee because we heard rumours of his power and his Philosopher’s Stones,” Ed said. “He pretended he was going to help us, screwed us over and tied us to his creepy little magic house. We could only leave if somebody came to do three tasks and completed them successfully and asked for just the right combination of items. And the way we’d be free, as you know, is by the whole place burning. With us in it. When our friends came to help...” He trailed off, brows furrowed.

“Bad man,” Nina said, mournfully, and one or two of the other dogs whined.

“He turned your friends into animals,” Winry said, softly.

“But he has two other stones,” Ed said, voice determined again. “And if we can beat him, we can have them. One stone to bring back Al and all of these guys and to return Nina to normal - ”

“And to get your limbs back, Brother,” Al said, voice with a warning edge to it.

“And the other one for me to take back with me to Xing,” Ling finished. “And, it turns out, while we’re doing that, we’re also helping _Princess_ Winry save her kingdom. And a few others.” His grin was huge. “What an epic adventure this is turning out to be.”

“Granny, Lan Fan and Old Man Fu are all waiting for us in Resembool,” Winry added. “And I’m sure, knowing my grandmother, she’s found other allies. We’ll be fighting this together. But we _have_ to do it before the Promised Day, or Bradley will be king for the next sixteen years. There’s no way to undo that magic.”

“How long do we have until then?” Al asked. They worked it out hastily. “Right. Then we can plan more on the road. And Hawkeye can take a letter to your grandmother if you describe her and where she’s likely to be, Winry. I mean, Princess.”

“Winry’s fine, Al,” she said, with a small smile. “And... thank you.” Al’s head quirked to the side. “You... you were _excited_ , when I first came. You... thought I’d be able to do this, huh?”

“I hoped,” Al said, quietly. Warmly.

“Okay, okay, okay. Let’s just – _crap_.” Ed had tried and failed to rise to his feet again. “Al! Can you get this... _stupid_ thing off me?”

“I think it requires actual lips, Brother,” Al said, half amused and half apologetic. “It only comes off with a kiss,” he explained to Ling and Winry.

“Don’t look at me,” Ling said, waving both hands when Ed turned a black look his way. “There’s a pretty girl right there.”

“She’s a _princess_ , dumbass. Do you have any idea what kind of magic a princess’s kiss has?”

“Are you seriously afraid – ” Ling started.

“Yes,” Ed said, deadly serious. “I’ve screwed around with magic I don’t understand enough for one lifetime, thank you.”

There was a heavy silence in which even the dogs stopped screwing around. Mustang suddenly snorted, and nudged at Winry’s shoulder. She looked at him, and then at Ed, and then patted his neck absently. Ed snapped at him and he aimed a playful kick Ed’s way that Winry deftly ignored as she crouched before Ed.

“Ed?” He glared at her, suspiciously. “I’m... I think... I think I have to do this. I think Mustang knows that, too.”

“What are you on about?”

“I don’t know. Do you ever... do you ever _hear_ magic... speaking? I know it doesn’t have a real language, but there’s.... a nudge... or... or...”

“An instinct,” Ed said, slowly. “Yeah.”

“It’s like that,” Winry said. “It’s like... I know that in order for you to help save my kingdom – in order for you to beat Kimblee and Bradley – we need to be... I need to do this. Willingly. Um. Bond us? Not... not like what Kimblee did to you! But... like... a contract? Of sorts?”

“Signed with a kiss,” Ling Yao said in a singsong sigh in the background.

Winry turned to glare at Ling even as Ed swore at him, and she was glad she wasn’t the only one blushing when she turned back to him. Ed looked at her, hesitated a bit longer, and then nodded, not looking in her eyes. And so she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. Something fissured and bloomed in her, extending outward toward Ed like a ripple. The ring expanded, lifted off of him, and then contracted to its usual size. Ed caught it deftly, climbed to his feet and held out a hand for Winry.

“Let’s get going,” was all he said into the silence.

He was still limping, though – quite badly. Winry was about to offer him her horse – and to fight him on it – when Mustang glided to Ed’s side. They had an argument about it – Ed yelling and Mustang biting – but, eventually, the horse won and Ed slipped onto his back, grousing about how he was going to kick Mustang in the side for the whole ride there. Hawkeye fluttered to in front of Ed and nipped at his fingers lightly. Ed quietened down.

And so, the strangest little party ever started off down the road – a princess and a prince atop her horse, a sorcerer atop a horse-man with a hawk-lady on his shoulders, a pack of men-dogs and one dog-dog, and a seven-foot-tall hollow suit of armour carrying a girl-dog. Winry had to laugh a little as she imagined her grandmother’s face when Pinako saw them.

“Hey.” Ed had ridden closer to her, and he was holding out the ring. “You earned this, fair and square.”

“Oh... I...”

“You may need it,” he pressed, and she held out her hand in acquiesce.

She meant for him to just hand it to her, but Ed slipped it on her finger instead. And something incredibly funny happened in her gut. Like her nerves were catching on fire.

“You know,” Ling said in her ear as Ed moved on to ride ahead. “I’m definitely retuning to Xing when this is all over. So that position of king for Resembool will be open. And, honestly, I think the most _logical_ king to have for a land like that is one with powerful magic. Don’t you agree?”

“Let’s... just save the day, first, okay? I can worry about a king after that,” Winry said, haughtily.

But her cheeks were burning, her heart was thudding warm sparks, and her chest caught fire as she glanced at Ed’s back as he rode in front of her. Maybe... _Maybe_...

There was hope, wasn’t there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we all know they save the day and stuff, right? I can keep this ending in the same place the original ends, right? This is only three chapters like I originally planned it to be, _right_? Right.


End file.
